


typical tuesday nights

by mickyy



Category: Gotham (TV), Percy Jackson and the Olympians
Genre: Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, but like what if they were friends???, just a blurb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:08:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22271614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickyy/pseuds/mickyy
Summary: Percy Jackson hangs out around Gotham.Bruce Wayne walks home.There may be an attempted mugging.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 79





	typical tuesday nights

"Hey, ain't that Bruce Wayne?" A man nodded to Bruce, making sure his buddies saw. The others glanced up with a hungry gleam in their eyes. 

"Yeah, yeah, it is," one of his friends confirmed. He grinned toothily, watching the kid like a hawk. 

"Think he's got any cash?" the other one asked, dropping his cigarette and stomping on it. 

"Oh, I'd bet on it." The three of them started stalking along after Bruce, who noticed he was being followed after a few blocks. He started running, doing anything he could think of to throw them off his trail. 

He ran until he reached a dead end alley. "Shit," he muttered. He glanced around: a fire escape, too high for him to reach; a dumpster, but that was the obvious hiding spot; a manhole cover leading to the sewers, though Bruce probably couldn't lift it in time. He was trapped. "Shit!" 

"That ain't a nice word for a rich kid," the ringleader said, grinning widely. He walked forward, with an odd gait that lurched every few steps. Alfred would tell him to go for his legs. 

"At least it is a word," Bruce snapped back. "On the other hand, 'ain't' is not." The other two chuckled and glanced at each other before looking back at the Boss. 

"You got fire, kid." He took a few more steps in Bruce's direction, until he could smell the alcohol in his breath. "Sure would be a shame if we had to put it out now, eh?" 

"I'm fairly certain that was a threat." Bruce rolled his shoulders and straightened his back. He planted his feet in one of the stances Alfred taught him and glared. "You may want to reconsider." Bluffing was his first move. If that didn't work, his plan would rely entirely on the hope that these guys couldn't fight. 

"I'm fairly certain I don't want to," the ringleader mimicked. He stared for a second, then wound his arm back and aimed a punch at Bruce's gut. 

He blocked and kicked his shins. Boss cried out and fell to his knees, which allowed bruce to slip past. Two more to go. 

He was doing well until someone caught him in the jaw. And then he stumbled and blinked wildly, which gave them a chance to trip him. He didn't whack his head, thank heavens, but his shoulder was jarred on impact. He grunted and rolled over. 

A fist came flying for his face. Bruce closed his eyes and waited. And...waited. Impact never came, but he still heard a fight. He opened his eyes again and watched. 

Someone new had shown up. He was a bit taller than Bruce and much better at fighting. He kicked the ringleader in the head to knock him out and keep him out of the way, then went to town on the other two. 

It was over surprisingly quickly. The guy had just finished slamming the last assailant's head into the wall when he turned to Bruce, walked over, and examined him. 

"Your shoulder is dislocated," he said, squatting down beside him. "You ever have this happen before?" Bruce shook his head. "Okay, then this is gonna hurt like hell. Need something to bite down on?" 

Bruce shook his head again. He was still trying to decide whether or not to trust this guy. Sure, he'd saved him, but this was Gotham. He might turn around and hold a gun to his chest. 

"Ready?" the guy gripped Bruce's shoulder and upper arm. "On the count of three. One!" He shoved really hard, and Bruce let out a pained shout. 

"You said on three!" he exclaimed, massaging his shoulder. 

"It's worse when you're expecting it, trust me." 

"So you've dislocated your shoulder then?" He nodded. 

"Too many times to count. I'm Percy. How's about you let me walk you home, huh?" 

"Thank you for intervening," Bruce said as he stood and brushed off his jacket, "but you don't need to bother. I can get home by myself."

"I'm sure you can," Percy agreed, "but those assholes are out in full force tonight. I've had to stop four muggings in the last half hour."

"Then you're of much more use on the streets, and not with me." Bruce rubbed his shoulder and grimaced. Percy shrugged. 

"Probably. But I picked your wallet before they cornered you and now I feel bad." That was Percy's way of saying, "You're injured, and I don't want you to feel bad, but I'm walking you home anyway." That didn't make it any less true. Bruce's hand flew to his pocket, which now instead held a deck of cards. Most people would be upset, but Bruce just grinned. 

"You can keep the money, but I rather like that wallet." He held his hand out and Percy shrugged, emptied the wallet, and tossed it back. "So how the hell do we get to Wayne Manor from here, huh?"

"Follow me." The boys began the lengthy trek back to Bruce's home. Questions were asked and answered, stories were told, and advice was given. By the time they reached his front door, Bruce considered Percy to be a good friend. 

"Master Bruce," Alfred sighed in relief once Bruce walked into the study. "You're home." Bruce nodded and shrugged off his jacket. Alfred eyed Bruce's bruised jaw suspiciously. 

"Yeah? Tell me about it?" 

"Of course, Alfred. I've invited a friend--" Percy climbed in the window. "Oh, Percy. I was going to let you in the door."

Percy shrugged. "Doors are for people who don't use windows." He eyed Alfred. "This your bodyguard?" 

"If you decide to call it that," Alfred said. "Who might you be?"

"Percy." He waved and smiled for half a second. "You training him to fight?" Alfred nodded in confirmation. "Good. I've decided that I am too. You make sure he knows the basics, and I'll make sure he gets to apply it in the real world." 

Bruce lit up. "Really?" Alfred tried to protest, but Percy interrupted him. 

"Yeah. You're good, but until you can take on three guys by yourself—"

"Like you did?" Bruce asked, eyes bright with excitement and a kind of determined fire Percy hadn't seen since Annabeth. Percy nodded. 

"Yeah—you got some work to do." He jumped back up on the windowsill. "Keep training. I'll make sure to piss someone off for you by next weekend." With that, he leapt out the window and was gone.


End file.
